A Matter of Trust
by NoneButNim
Summary: Something's coming, and it has it's sights set on mentally screwing up two beautiful blonds. Revenge is thick in the air as Craig and Damien fight against the clock to keep their lovers safe. Too bad they have no idea who to go after. Everything inside
1. WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS

Title: A Matter of Trust  
Chapter: One  
Characters/Pairings: Craig/Tweek, Pip/Damien, Butters/Kenny, Cartman, Stan, Kyle  
Rating: R  
Summary: When something terrible happens to Tweek, Craig becomes the number one suspect. Damien and Pip refuse to accept the reasoning behind Craig's accusation. When they become too involved, Pip is the one to pay, and before long, Damien and Craig are desperately trying to save their lovers. Will it be too late for them?  
_**WARNINGS: **__This story contains_**_ rape scenes, and extreme language_**_. If you don't like this, please, I warn you, don't read it.__  
_  
Notes: I'm not used to writing things this dark, but hell, I had to. Please excuse errors, I had no beta.

Disclaimer: South Park belongs to Parker and Stone.

_**Now LISTEN. THIS IS A DARK, ANGSTY, TERRIBLE FIC. PLEASE, DON'T READ THIS IF YOU GET UPSET EASILY. **_

_**YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**_


	2. Suspicion and Secrets

Tweek sighed softly, a tiny tremble-turned-twitch jerking him forward just slightly in his seat. No one ever paid any attention to his grunts or spasms any more, which he supposed was a good thing. That meant not having to deal with the pressure of all eyes on him, paranoid of their whispers and laughs and taunts. Oh, he still was teased, what gay tweaked-out teen wouldn't be? It was mostly bullying. Not physical, at least, not anymore since he had made friends with the Anti-Christ, Damien Thorne and his boyfriend, Phillip 'Pip' Pirrup. And Tweek supposed that they, along with Leopold "Butters" Stotch and his long-term boyfriend Kenneth "Kenny" McCormick, would be the only ones he ever had. They were all outcasts, and stuck together. Well, Damien wasn't an outcast, but he hung with them, preferring them to the more popular scene.

Another shudder and a grunt, and Tweek felt a finger tap his back. "Jesus Christ!" He turned his head, coming face-to-face with Damien. Those crimson eyes were trying to read him, and the spastic blonde gave his shoulders a shove to get more personal space. "Ack- Damien! D-Don't do that, man, you freak me the fuck- ngh- out!" Damien simply laughed, but his smile faded as quickly as it appeared.

"What's been going on with you, man? You've been out of it all day." Pip glanced over from beside Damien, looking guilty. Of course he'd set Damien up to this. He leaned forward as well over the desk, arms folded atop the desk, his cheek resting against them as he watched the nervous teen twitch under Damien's unwavering gaze. "We're all pretty worried about you, y'know? So what's up?"

Tweek shook his head, offering the couple a smile and a twitch. "I'm- ngh- I'm fine! Don't worry about me, man, seriously." With that, he turned back to his notebook, not lifting his gaze. Damien sat back a little annoyed, Pip touching his arm lightly.

"I think it's about Craig," whispered the Brit, too low for Tweek to hear. He wouldn't have anyway, too absorbed in doodling in the margins of his paper. "They haven't been speaking much as of late, it seems." Damien folded his arms over his chest, legs kicked up on to his desk, watching Tweek with a frown pulling at his lips.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Tweek hasn't spoken about him at all, did they fight?"

"H-hey fellas. I couldn't help but overhear, but I- I heard that Craig called Tweek a- a douche yesterday." Butters had leaned forward from his place behind Damien and Pip, Kenny asleep with his head down on the desk beside him, hood down, messy blonde hair obscuring his face. "A-And Tweek didn't take to kindly to that, I bet." Damien gave a snort, not really amused. It was more sarcastic.

"I'm the Anti-Christ and Pip's a fucking angel, and we don't fight nearly as much as they do."

" 'S cause Pip'll kick yer ass if ya disagree with him." Kenny had one eye peeked open, looking bored.

"Gee, Kenny, that wasn't very nice-"

"Oh, pish-posh," Pip had his brows furrowed, sweeping blonde bangs from his eyes, looking cross. "I would never hurt Damien--"

"Uh, yeah you would-" interjected the dark-haired male.

"-physically, or mentally, or-"

"-hey Frenchie-"

"I'm. Not. French!" Pip turned, fist raised. It connected with Damien's jaw, who fell out of his seat, causing a shriek from Tweek who he had knocked in to. But Damien was laughing on the ground, Kenny joining in, doubled-over as Pip covered his face with both hands, peeking at Damien from between his fingers. "Oh, Damien, you know I didn't mean to-"

"I know, I know." The Dark One got to his feet and brushed himself off, a slight bruise forming on his cheek. "But yeah, you would hurt me."

"Only if you deserved it!" cried the Brit indignantly. Damien rolled his eyes and turned.

"Sorry, man." It had been directed toward Tweek, who was currently rubbing his shoulder where Damien had elbowed. He was waved off with a reassuring smile. "Anyway, as I was saying..."

The bell suddenly rang, and Tweek yelped, head slamming against the desk from the force of a twitch. Damien sighed and rolled his eyes, hauling him out of the seat from beneath his arms, pressing the notebook into his chest while picking up the blonde's bag.

"Th-thanks."

"No big deal," came the reply as Damien slung two bags over his shoulders. Pip got up from his seat, accompanied by Butters and Kenny, who were holding hands. Tweek trotted behind the group, watching his neon green converse as he walked, walked, then crashed into something. Or rather, someone.

"Gah! Christ, I- I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention, a-and I--"

"Tweek?" Oh, shit. Tweek knew that nasally voice anywhere. A gulp, and he looked up with wide mocha eyes, instantly meeting frosted blue. "Where the hell have you been, man? I've been looking all over the school for you." Tweek looked down again, feet shuffling nervously, his entire body giving a shake with each rapid twitch. It was almost like a slow seizure.

"W-well, I d-didn't go to lunch, because of an- ngh!- a paper, a-and then I went to s-study hall with the g-guys. Jesus, I'm s-sorry I didn't find you!" Craig scoffed, reaching for Tweek's hand. Tweek jerked away a moment, before giving a nervous giggle, twining his fingers with those of his boyfriend. Craig went in to kiss him, but a twitch turned his head, and soft lips met a flushed cheek. The blonde whimpered and bit his lower lip, before leaning up to compensate for the denied kiss, pecking Craig. "S-sorry, I h-haven't had any coffee, I think- ergh- I think the gnomes s-stole my thermos!" Such a lie.

Craig rolled his eyes and gave Tweek's hand a tug, the blonde following him with eyes down-cast. They passed by Damien, Pip, Butters and Kenny, and the taller blonde frowned, tugging up the hood of his orange hoodie. "Dude, what the fuck is wrong with Tweek? He's fuckin' shitting his pants whenever Craig comes around." Damien's head was tilted as his eyes narrowed, staring at the couple a few feet down the hall. He was reading their souls, for some sort of damage. Tweek's was damaged badly, but not for any reasons in his control. Tweek had a bad history. Craig's was a little marred, by his own past and by his defiance. It wasn't anything serious. But, Damien did realized a new tear in Tweek's soul, right up near his heart. But Craig didn't have the same. It wasn't a fight in their relationship, at least.

He was interrupted by Pip, who tugged his arm. "Damien, please. Its rude to do that, its none of our business. Though... I am worried..." He turned to watch as Craig spoke, laughing about something at his locker as Tweek was attentive, giggling softly. Pip sighed with a soft shake of his head, thumb caressing Damien's arm through his shirt material. "Its best that we don't interfere. I'm sure that they'll work it out in due time."

"Gee, I hope you're right, Pip." Butters rubbed his knuckles together nervously, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as Kenny leaned down, kissed his forehead, and took off toward Stan, Kyle and Cartman, who had waved him over.

"I hope I am too, old chap..." It was barely audible as Pip gave a soft sigh, leaning into Damien, who kissed the top of his head. Tweek and Craig were on their own, for now. He watched as Craig hugged Tweek (it wasn't returned), and stalked off in his own direction. Tweek stood floored, before turning on his heel, twitching, and leaning against the locker.

Maybe he'd been wrong. Pip slowly approached Tweek as if to not frighten him, hand reaching out to touch a trembling shoulder. As soon as he heard a sniffle, he tensed, bending a little to meet his eyes. Tweek was pale, tears tracking down his cheeks. "Tweek? Goodness, what's the matter?" The shorter blonde just shook his head and lunged forward, causing Pip to stumble. But soon his arms wrapped around a trembling body, holding Tweek to his chest, face buried into his hair as he cooed soothingly. "Shh, its alright..." When Damien and Butters approached, Pip halted them with a shake of his head.

'What's his deal?' Damien mouthed. Pip shook his head again, looking crest-fallen. Tweek was sobbing, clutching his shirt. Without a word, Damien took Tweek from Pip, holding him against his larger body. He was naturally warm due to his inhuman body heat, and knew it would comfort the blonde more. At this point, Tweek wasn't worried whose arms he was in. It didn't matter. They weren't Craig's arms.

"Oh hamburgers. T-Tweek? What's wrong little fella?" Butters leaned down a little, and Tweek turned his head to look at him, cheek against Damien's chest.

"C-Craig..."

"What the fuck did he do?" That was Damien.

"Gah! H-he-- I- oh, Jesus, its too much pressure!" Tweek's words were thick with tears. Damien pet his head, as Pip gave Tweek's back a soft caress.

"Its okay, Tweek. What did Craig do? Did he say something to you that hurt your feelings?" When Tweek shook his head 'no', all three were confused.

"C-Craig. H-he loves me." And with that, Tweek burst into violent sobs again, face hidden in Damien's chest. The three exchanged confused glances before looking back down at Tweek, who was rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I- I d-don't think I'm okay."

It took Pip's cooing, soft words whispered from Damien in Latin, and comforting hugs from Butters to calm Tweek down enough to stop him crying, and a little more encouragement to get him to agree to going over Butters' house. "Well, m-my parents won't be home for another two days, and this is 'an emergency', I g-guess. So we can all go to my house. C'mon, Tweekers." Tweek nodded, leaning into Damien who had his arm around him. Pip was on the other side of the shaky blonde, holding his hand tightly. Together, the four walked across town to the Stotch residence.

It was warm inside. Damien removed his two jackets (he refused to wear anything less that three layers outside), Butters and Pip removing their own. They had to coax Tweek out of his, who hadn't spoken a word the entire time. No twitching, no grunting or outbursts of paranoia. Nothing. Pip pulled Damien aside while Butters tried to keep the blonde subdued with a mug of coffee.

"Damien, you have to do something."

"Me? Why do I have to do it-" Pip cut him of, hissing his whisper close to Damien's ear, holding him in place by jerking him down to his level by the front of his black turtleneck.

"Tweek likes you. A lot. Not love, like Craig, but he'd still listen to you. Just show him a little affection, show him that you'll be there." Damien nodded with a sigh, opened his mouth to speak, but the Brit cut him off. "In ANY way you can be." The Anti-Christ looked a mildly surprised. But count on Pip to not mind sharing him with friends. Apparently, he didn't have a say in the matter. Pip kissed him briefly, before releasing him. "I love you, Damien."

"I know." Damien pulled him close in a quick moment of affection, tilting the blonde's chin up and meeting his lips a second time, holding it a little longer than before. Pip slowly drew away, and Damien whispered softly against his hair. "I love you too, Pip. More than life itself." The two exited the kitchen, Damien leading Pip into the livingroom. Tweek was on the couch, staring down into his cup of coffee, which was already half gone.

"Golly, I dunno what to do, fellas. Tweek is just starin' off." Pip sighed and looked to Damien with nod, who turned to Tweek and gently touched his arm. Butters look confused, but Pip silenced him with a look and a promise that he'd explain later. Tweek rose from the couch and began to follow Damien who led him up the stairs, their footsteps moving across the floor, the door to Butters' room closing behind them.

"What's goin' on up there? I hope they aren't gonna do what people usually do when they go into bedrooms, 'specially not mine." Pip shook his head, removing his hat and setting it in his lap as he sat down on the couch. Butters took a seat beside him, hand resting over Pip's.

"I told Damien to do whatever he saw fit to help Tweek through this, whatever it is he's going through." He was biting his lip, looking about ready to cry. Butters hugged him close. "E-even if it means that... that he must..." His words were lost as he covered his mouth with his hand, eyes closed and brows furrowed. The younger blonde kissed his cheek, before pulling back.

"Well, lets watch some television. There's a few good m-movies on, I suppose."

Upstairs, Tweek sat on the bed, gazing up at Damien, who was watching him through steady crimson eyes. "Wh-what?" Tweek seemed a little edgy. Slowly, Damien pressed his knee on the bed by Tweek's hip, leaning over him until the blonde's back hit the mattress. One hand cupped his jaw. "Damien?"

Damien's breath caught. Tweek was adoable. Not pretty, like Pip, but he was cute as Hell. But, he had a job to do. Being the Son of the Devil, Damien was the Prince of Temptation. He leaned down, knees on either side of Tweek's hips, hands planted on the mattress on either side of his head. He leaned in, eyes hooded slightly. "You're trembling." His voice was like velvet, hot and moist against Tweek's ear. He couldn't stop the moan that escaped him, his hands automatically lifting to Damien's shoulders.

They locked eyes a moment, before Damien leaned in, sealing their lips together. Tweek just needed to forget. It didn't meant anything- both males were aware of it. Damien was helping Tweek feel better. Tweek wanted release. Tongues clashed, lips kneading, breaths catching as Damien rolled over, pulling the blonde on top of him, roughly grinding up.

"Damien--" Tweek gasped and moaned into his ear, cheeks flushed. This wasn't right, Damien wasn't Craig, and he loved Craig, and you were only supposed to have sex with people you loved. But wasn't love the thing that got him into this mess? Tweek gave a shiver and rocked forward into Damien, head tossing back. "O-oh, sweet Jesus..." Damien grunted in pleasure, arching into each thrust, hands gripping slim hips. Tweek was so needy, so desperate. Rolling them again, Damien urged Tweek to wrap a leg around him as the thrust forward, Tweek's head thrown back into the pillows.

Paper-white hands slide under Tweek's shirt, pushing it up as his kisses dropped to the column of his neck, over his frantic pulse. Damien could smell his arousal now, and... blood? Tweek gave a whimper, bucking. The jeans between them only served for rougher friction. "I- its so hot... you're w-warm..."

"Shit, Tweek..." Damien was losing himself, gyrating now, gazing into hazy mocha eyes, before kissing his lips. The usually spastic blonde kissed him back heatedly, nerves still. He wasn't afraid. Not of Damien. He trusted him.

As Damien descended down his neck and chest, Tweek arched and threaded his fingers into ebony locks of silk. "Ohh..." His eyes closed, and his cheeks darkened in color as he moaned with pleasure, shivering. Damien's lips and tongue were hot, burning, and felt so good to him. Damien was gentle and slow, too slow, and Tweek thought he as going to die.

Once Damien reached his stomach, he halted, eyes wide. He was face-to-face with ugly slices and almost black bruises. "What the fuck, Tweek?" It wasn't a shout, just a breathy moan. Damien knew this had to stop, and sat up a little alarmed. Tweek was covered in bruises an cuts and scars. They ran down his stomach, over his hips... Damien unzipped the boys pants, Tweek was too far gone to notice, and gave them a tug. Beneath the denim and boxers, sure enough, continued the marks. He forced both garments down to the blonde's knees, feeling sick. "Tweek, what the fuck happened?"

Tweek's eyes didn't open. His face was buried into his hands, though he didn't shudder or shake like he was crying. When he spread his thighs wide enough for Damien to see his torn, abused entrance, he did start crying. It wasn't loud, just heavy sobs, his entire body shaking. "H-he wouldn't stop, I- I begged him to, I-"

The Prince of Darkness couldn't believe his eyes, or ears, for that matter. Not bothering with Tweek's pants, Damien was instantly holding the blonde to his chest. He felt a sting behind his eyes, but it quickly turned to anger. His body temperature flared, and it frightened Tweek, so he forced himself calm for the blonde's sake. He knew right now, that he couldn't breathe a word to anyone. Tweek wouldn't be able to take the pressure, he'd break and do something stupid. His first idea, was to go to Craig. But what if Craig didn't know? Damien knew he had to do something.

_Protect._

That's what he felt, and that's what he would do. "Lets get you dressed, c'mon." He helped Tweek back into his clothes, laying him out on the bed. Tweek was whimpering softly.

"Pl-please, man, you can't tell- ngh!" Damien was about to argue, but something in those mocha eyes told him that this was more than it appeared, and he nodded solemnly. "I- I wanna go downstairs with Pip and Butters."

When Tweek bolted for the door, Damien sat on the bed, head in his hands. That was a lot to take in. He could see clearly each slice and bruise, and clenched his fists against his temples. When had this happened? Craig walked Tweek to work from school every day, then home from his job at Harbucks four days a week. Damien walked him home all of the other times, so when...?

Damien's mind hopped around to every possible scenario, each of them uglier than the first, making him tremble with rage. He had to tell someone. Grabbing his phone, he punched in a number, and brought it to his ear, counting backwards with a deep breath to calm himself.

_"Hello? This better be good, dude. I was in the middle of somethin' important."_

_"Kenny, I think we have a huge fucking problem. Stuff your dick back in your pants and pay fucking attention."_

_"What the hell crawled up yer ass and died?"_

_"I think Tweek's been sexually abused."_

_"Tweek's been what? Can't hear, dude."_

_"I think Tweek's been raped."_


	3. The Beast And The Harlot

**_A/N:_** Hey guys! It's been forever, I know!

I've just been having trouble writing this chapter-- okay, that's a lie, I've been procrastinating it. I'm so sorry about all of this fuss though. In all honesty, I'm NOT happy with this chapter at all, but ehh, whatever. I might go back and fix it later; who knows?

OH.

**_WARNING: _**Scary stuff in this chapter. Don't read it if you have a weak stomach, please.

Other than that, I have no beta, so um... Sorry for any mistakes.

Reviews are looooove~!

* * *

By the time Kenny had arrived, there were three blondes on the couch, limbs askew, all asleep. Damien was sitting on the floor beside a hand that rested on his shoulder- Kenny figured it was Pip's, but he couldn't really tell. Crimson eyes lifted to meet sky-blue, and the Dark One gave a sigh, getting up by rocking forward onto the balls of his feet with practiced ease. Kenny's eyes were where Damien knew they'd be; on Tweek. After a few moments of prolonged silence, Kenny shifted in his orange sleeveless sweatshirt, hands in his pockets.

"You really think so?"

Damien gave a nod. "There's no doubt my mind. Come here; look." Kenny moved over as Damien carefully lifted up Tweek's shirt. The pants already hung low, giving Kenny a good view of the damage. His eyes were wide, lips slightly parted in shock.

"Dude... there's no way someone else did that." When Damien furrowed his brows, Kenny squatted beside the couch, close to Tweek's stomach to examine the damage. "There's no fuckin' way it's from someone else; look at the way the hand bruises are; they're the wrong way fer someone else."

"Not if they were holding him from behind," Damien pulled Tweek's shirt down and stood back as Kenny straightened to his full height of a whopping six-two. He was thin, but packed tanned muscle from working out. Damien only made it to five-eleven, but was equally as thin, and paper-white. Butters was next, not as thin as the other two, but petite, reaching five-nine, Pip barely five-eight and feminine, and Tweek a mere five-six, scrawny and nearly malnourished. Craig was Damien's height, and built from his years on the football team with Clyde and Stan.

Kenny cast a sideways glance at Damien, hands shoving into his pockets. "Alright, so let's say that Tweek _was_ raped. What now?" Blue eyes challenged crimson as Damien tried to form an answer. It was a good question. _What now?_What were they supposed to do? Damien sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, gesturing for the blond to follow him with a jerk of his elbow.

They made it into the kitchen, and the Anti-Christ folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the counter. Kenny straddled a kitchen chair, arms folded atop the back, chin resting on them. "Dude, yer jumpin' to conclusions-"

"He said that 'he wouldn't stop', Kenny!" Temper boiling, Damien's fists clenched against his sleeves, restraining himself as he averted his gaze from the teen across from him. "Fine. You don't have to fucking believe me, but I know what I saw, and I know what I heard. And mark me, by all that is Unholy, I _will_ find out who did this." His voice had dropped dangerously low, and Kenny feared for his life- not that it made a difference either way, because of his constant habit of dying. But still, it didn't hurt to fear for it anyways. It would be painful.

Before Damien could set him ablaze, Kenny ducked out of the kitchen, scooped Butters out of the pile of limbs on the couch, and took off up the stairs. That left Pip and Tweek, curled up, holding each other in their sleep. Damien sighed and walked to the back of the couch, leaning his arms on it as he watched them. They looked peaceful, content. Reaching out, he brushed a lock of hair from Pip's face, who stirred, and pressed his head into Tweek's shoulder, who in turn nuzzled into the Brit's chest. A chuckle from the Dark One, and Damien felt himself relax. For now, he'd push what he'd seen into the back of his mind, until he could figure out what to do.

It wouldn't be pretty, no matter how he went about it, he decided as he took a seat in the armchair adjacent to the couch. He stared at the two on the couch, lost in thought.

_I should call Craig, but if he doesn't know, he might falsely accuse someone else. Not that I care if he kills someone innocent, but I want to make sure that he gets the right guy… Sure, I care about Tweek. Not in that way, but still…_

Damien brought his fist to his chin, biting into his knuckle, brows knitting in concentration at his inner monologue.

_Rape… It isn't like I get joy out of that. Any type of suffering, sure. But not… Not with Tweek. The poor kid is already fucked up, he doesn't need shit like this. But he had it. And Craig doesn't know. I know they've slept together, so it couldn't be Craig. Nah, Tweek would have ditched him, had it been. Who the hell would do that to him?_

It grew late, and Damien's thoughts had run in a circle so many times that he could swear that the room was spinning. He covered his eyes with the heels of his hands and relaxed back into the chair with a long exhale.

"Damien?"

_Shit._

Damien's hands dropped, and he blinked once to clear away the blur. "What's up, Pip?" He asked, shifting so his arms folded across his chest. The young Brit sat up, carefully untangling himself from Tweek before making his way toward his boyfriend. He cocked his head, biting his lower lip as he studied him. "…What?"

"Are you feeling ill, Damien? You look exhausted. Perhaps you should try to get some sleep." Ah, count on Pip to be so ever-observant. Damien shook his head, tugging the blonde into his lap and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

Pip's fingers began to comb through Damien's hair, who titled his head willingly into the caress, eyes closed once more. "Mm, don't worry about me. My mind's just threatening to explode from over-thinking." At least it got Pip to giggle. Damien returned the sound with a low chuckle, head turning once more to press kisses to the palm of Pip's hand. He'd already told Kenny, even after promising he wouldn't tell. Now what was he supposed to do? He definitely couldn't tell Pip, no matter what. The only problem would be a confrontation. If Pip asked Damien, Damien knew he wouldn't be able to lie. Sure, he was the Anti-Christ, and lied and sinned and was lustful, and all of that, but he couldn't seem to be any of it around the Brit. It confounded him, and he'd even gone as far as to ask his father about it (Damien and Satan had somewhat of a damaged relationship, after Damien refused to come back to Hell in order to stay with Pip. It was a pointless fight, but left both father and son bitter). "We should get going. Wake Tweek up, yeah?"

Waking Tweek was never a simple task. It was more of a chore, than anything else. You couldn't be too loud, or shake him too hard, or sound anything but gentle, or else he might kick the bucket. Once, Butters had shaken him a little too quickly, and Tweek wound up in an ambulance after having a panic attack. It was just one of those things. So far, Craig and Pip were the only ones ever successful with waking him.

"Tweek?" Pip crouched by the side of the couch, hand gently cupping the side of his face, thumb stroking beneath his eye. "Tweek, chap… Wake up…" There was somewhat of a groan of protest as mocha eyes fluttered open, to meet oceanic blue. "Ah, there you are. Welcome back to the waking world." The Brit smiled at him, and the gesture was returned as Tweek grinned and pushed himself into a sitting position, hand fisting through his hair. "Damien and I are going to take our leave. Would you like us to walk you home?"

"Ngh- n-no, it's okay. I can go home by myself. Besides, you two live th-the other way. Craig should be getting off of work in the game store anyways; s-so I can walk with him." The twitchy blonde got to his feet, pulled his pants up a little more, then tugged his shirt down self-consciously before getting his shoes, along with Damien's and Pip's. The three put them on in silence, before exiting the house. They didn't bother announcing their leave- Kenny and Butters _probably_ wouldn't be able to hear them, anyways. They had both gone upstairs.

Pip hugged Tweek when they parted, and Damien ruffled his hair, before draping his arm around his boyfriend and walking off in the other direction. Tweek watched them go, before turning in his own direction, making his way down the sidewalk.

It was getting cold out. Tweek tugged his coat tight around his frame, hand stuffed into his pockets and clenched into fists. Looking up, he came to the conclusion that it would probably snow before he got home, and the sun would probably set. Tweek decided to jog toward the video game store where Craig worked, honestly not wanting to make the trip home alone. He never liked to, and Craig almost always walked with him.

When he got to the store, he found Craig leaning against the brick building, hands in his pocket, cigarette between his lips. He smirked as Tweek bounded up to him and attached himself to his arm. "Hey Tweekie," he said, cig dangling from the corner of his lips. Tweek furrowed his brows, about to comment on how Craig needed to flick the ash, lest it blow in his face and burn him, when he was tugged a little roughly to walk beside his boyfriend. "I've been waiting out here for you for a while now."

"Y-You have? How'd you know I'd walk by here?"

"Damien called me."

"Oh."

It was silent, Tweek still being dragged behind Craig as the male began to pick up his pace. "C-Craig, slow down, I c-can't-"

"Shut up."

"Gah! I'm sorry!" Tweek whimpered and began to jog a little, his steps fumbling next to Craig's long strides. Had he done something wrong? Craig seemed a little angry. Okay, he seemed _really_angry. Tweek decided it best to not speak, instead keeping his head bowed and concentrated on where he was placing his feet to keep himself from tripping so much.

Only when Tweek realized that they'd been walking for a long time, did he look up. He pressed closer to Craig. He didn't recognize where they were! This definitely wasn't his house, or anywhere relatively close to it! They were standing before a shack of some sort, in the more run-down part of South Park. It was probably only a mile or so away from where Kenny lived, Tweek assumed. "Wh-where are we?" There was no answer, and Tweek looked up. "Craig…?"

A jolt of pain, and then nothing. Tweek crumpled to the ground, and Craig tossed aside the rock he'd had in his hand, watching as blood flowed down the back of Tweek's neck. Bending down, he scooped him him, hauling him over his shoulder and kicking open the shack door. It nearly swung right off the hinge as it slammed closed again from the force of Craig's kick.

The interior was dingy. Discolored rags were strewn over broken furniture, a soiled bed in the corner. The windows were boarded up with deteriorating planks of wood, leaving the only source of light to the hanging, dim light bulb in the center of the room.

Craig tossed Tweek down onto the bed and rolled him onto his back, pulling his sweatshirt up and off, before working at the rest of his clothes. When Tweek was stripped down, he undid his own jeans and shoved them past his hips, along with his boxers. Tweek stirred, but only managed a tiny pained sigh, before turning his head the other way. He was trying to come back to consciousness through the pain coursing through his head, yet currently unsuccessful. His mind was hazed, and he felt like he was being suffocated.

Tweek wasn't that far off the mark. Craig tied a dirtied strip of sheet over his mouth, keeping him silenced for the most part as he pushed his thighs open.

When something hot trailed up his leg, Tweek's eyes snapped open wide. They rolled about before beginning to focus to the poor lighting, first noticing all of the broken, ratty furniture, before realizing that Craig was between his legs, and that he was naked. "Mmf-!" Tweek tried again to cry out Craig's name. Again, it was muffled, before he realized that there was something covering his mouth. There was another heat against his leg, and his eyes rolled back in pain. Craig was pressing his cig to his inner thighs, burning him. Tweek couldn't bring himself to move.

_Not again… Please not again…_

It all seemed so familiar. Tweek felt panic rise inside his chest as Craig climbed up his body and tugged Tweek roughly down against him until the backs of his thighs were against Craig's hips. It was uncomfortable, it was _wrong_. And Tweek knew what was going to happen.

A scream went unheard as Craig shoved himself into the blonde. Tweek now began to resist with renewed vigor, thrashing and sobbing into the gag. He felt as if he was being ripped in two. New bruises would begin to form over the barely-fading ones. His vision was blurred by tears as he thrashed his head against the firm, lumpy pillow, trying to hit against Craig. "Mm-! Nghff-!!"

"Shit-" Craig laughed, tossing his head back as he rocked forward, harder and deeper into Tweek, who was now beginning to numb, head dropped to the side, staring off. "That's right, slut. Take it."

Tweek shuddered, closing his eyes tightly and swallowing. What was Craig doing? Why was he doing this again? Hadn't once been enough? They slept together regularly, why did he need to do this?

_I must have done something wrong._

_It must have been my own fault. I'm not good enough for him. I love him, I should let him do this, he likes it._

The few minutes that passed seemed like an eternity as Tweek clenched the sheets and let Craig have his way, before Craig pulled out and came all over his thighs. Craig pulled off and zipped up, leaving Tweek alone on the bed, naked, bleeding, and used.

It was a good hour before Tweek worked up enough energy to pull his clothes on. It was about a half an hour after that when Tweek left the place, and began his limp home, taking it slow. The seat of his pants was stained with blood, and he was glad that his shirt covered it, not like it mattered. When he got home, his parents barely acknowledged him, as usual. He was able to climb the stairs and make it to the bathroom.

Only when the door closed did he come apart. Tweek threw himself toward the toilet, slamming the lid up as he emptied the contents of his stomach, choking and coughing. It was a while before he could get a full breath between heaves and gagging. He flushed, and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, before peeling it off. It was tossed in the corner, while his pants were shoved into the bottom of the trash bin with his boxers. Pain throbbed in his rear, and he whimpered, clutching onto the sink and he tried to stand up straight, wincing and twitching the entire time. When he'd gotten as upright as possible, he turned to the shower and let it run steaming hot before getting it.

A yelp and he covered his mouth, waiting for his body to get used to the heat. His skin burned, but he felt a little better. The hot water felt like it was washing away what had happened to him. Tweek was careful as he began to wash himself, taking care to scrub himself down thoroughly. He washed until the water ran cold, and stood naked in the middle of the shower after turning the tap off.

_O-oh Jesus… What am I gonna do? I know he loves me. He tells me that every day. This is just what he likes to do. If I tell him not to do this, then he might think I don't love him. I just wanna make him happy. Shit, this is a lot of fucking pressure. Damien's gonna find out. Craig will leave me if he finds out. I have to tell Damien I like this. I have to tell him that I like to be treated like this. It's the only way._

Tweek hugged himself and leaned against the tile wall. His hands came up to cover his face as he sobbed, sliding down to sit, knees drawn up to his chest. He tried to keep himself quiet, tiny sniffled and whimpers escaping him. His quiet didn't last, and soon he was outright bawling, hugging himself tighter. It wasn't fair. What had he ever done to deserve it?

About an hour later, Tweek found the motivation to get himself off the tub floor, fully dry. His hair was damp, but no longer dripped down his shoulders. Naked, he shuffled down the hallway to his room, collapsing on his bed without getting dressed. He couldn't bring himself to bend over. Of course, as soon as he hit his mattress, his cell phone started buzzing on his bedside table. He stared at it a few moments, before reaching out. Fingers curled around it, he flipped it open and glanced down.

_Where the fuck r u? –Craig_

Tweek's brows furrowed.

_Home._He texted back, fingers trembling.

A few seconds later…

_I've been waitin outside 4 u 4 3 hrs._

Tweek didn't get it. He bit his lip, and dialed his boyfriend's number. Moments later, the nasally, comforting voice of Craig Tucker flowed into his ear. "Tweekers, what the fuck?"

"Y-You walked me home!"

"What? No I didn't? What the hell are you talking about, man?"

"Craig… I… I think there's something wrong with my head."

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	4. Your Guardian Angel

**A/N: Oh, my god. It took forever, but I'm finally done with this chapter!**

**I'm sorry I've been away so long, so much has been going on, and I know I promised faster updates, and yadda yadda yadda, but this time I mean it. With a thank you to the lovely ToniTheTerror, for helping me with a scene, and CrescentNine for the support, and becoming my new partner in crime for this fic. They are both remarkable, amazing authors, and outstanding people. They mean a lot to me, and they're a huge source of inspiration.**

**And of course, a thank you to all of you, readers. For sticking it out, and having faith in me. Thank you, so, so much! I don't know where I'd be without you.**

**Without further ado, here is the long awaited chapter three of A Matter Of Trust.**

_Where the fuck r u? –Craig_

_Tweek's brows furrowed._

_Home. He texted back, fingers trembling._

_A few seconds later…_

_I've been waitin outside 4 u 4 3 hrs._

_Tweek didn't get it. He bit his lip, and dialed his boyfriend's number. Moments later, the nasally, comforting voice of Craig Tucker flowed into his ear. "Tweekers, what the fuck?"_

_"Y-You walked me home!"_

_"What? No I didn't? What the hell are you talking about, man?"_

_"Craig… I… I think there's something wrong with my head."_

After getting up and pulling on a pair of sweats with a t-shirt, Tweek sat back nervously, eyes focused intently on the digital clock on his bedside table. Craig promised he'd be over in a few minutes, though, somewhere inside Tweek's mind, a voice was screaming at him 'No, he's the one who's doing this to you. Don't let him in, he'll do it again'. He tried to ignore the thoughts, he did, rolling away from the clock and getting to his feet. Pacing really did nothing to calm his jittery nerves, and he didn't dare make a cup of coffee in fear of becoming sick. The quicker the minutes passed, the more rapidly his stomach turned, until he was gasping for breath, a cold sweat dampening his paper-white skin. It wasn't until he heard a knock on his door that he actually spilled his empty stomach on the hardwood.

Craig pushed the door open cautiously as he heard the gagging and coughing, eyes widening as he saw the petite blond on his hands and knees, trembling violently and threatening to collapse forward into his own mess. "Shit!" This looked worse than he thought. What the fuck had happened to Tweek? He looked like a puppy kicked one too many times, and had just about had enough of everything. Carefully, the teen crouched, one arm sliding under Tweek's chest, gently moving him into an upright position. Tweek heaved, and Craig eased him forward again as he became sick. It was disgusting, yes, but this was his boyfriend! Something was wrong with him, and Craig knew he had to do everything in his power to help. Lately, He'd realized Tweek acting a little differently around him; more jumpy, more afraid. When he had finally managed to get Tweek into his arms bridal style, he lifted him from the floor and carried him to the bathroom, lest he become sick again.

Tweek gave a whimper and hugged himself. All that had been coming up was water, and stomach bile. It burned his mouth, and made his eyes tear up. But he knew he was finished for now, by the way his stomach gurgled, and the way he gagged, and the way nothing came up. Craig left with a wet towel and cleaned the mess, tossing it directly in the trash. Even if it had been washed, it would still be disgusting, so throwing it away simply seemed like the better option. When he returned, Tweek was sitting exhausted against the sink, limbs sprawled, eyes heavily lidded. He was covered in vomit, and Craig felt awful. He hadn't seen Tweek this bad since the time he'd gotten that stupid stomach bug almost three years ago. Sighing, he grabbed the mouthwash from the medicine cabinet and poured some into the cap, before grabbing one of the paper cups. "Tweek, I need you to swish this in your mouth, then spit it in the cup. It will help, I promise." Having thrown up so many times from drinking, Craig had an idea of what Tweek tasted in his mouth at the present. Tweek looked at him blankly, before nodding, doing as he was told. The minty burn of the mouthwash helped greatly, and he thanked his boyfriend silently.

"Come on, lets get you washed up," said Craig in the softest tone he could manage. In all reality, it sounded rather ridiculous, with his nasally tone, but it still comforted the nervous wreck huddled on the floor to some degree. Craig leaned over and turned the bathtub on, peeling his sweatshirt off, so that he only remained in his wife beater. Fingers hovered under the steady waterfall coming from the tap, until he was sure it was the perfect temperature. Not quite too hot, but steaming, the way he knew the blond liked it. An affectionate smile and Craig pulled off his hat, pulling it down over a mass of messy blond hair. "There. Now, let's get you out of those clothes."

Sometimes, Craig felt as if he was dealing with a child. In a way, he was. Tweek was peculiar; he was so far beyond his years and yet so far behind, struggling to keep up. He could never just be in the middle, like any other normal teenager, No Tweek was a case of his own, and Craig loved him even more- if possible- for his unique mindset.

"O-Okay," Tweek gave a nod, and sighed as he lifted his arms, helping Craig to peel the soiled shirt away from his skin. The jeans came next. Bruises, burns, and cuts began to show as Tweek lost himself in the tiny kisses to his neck, one hand burying into tousled ebony locks, tugging slightly. "Craig," his giggle was flirtatious, happier, as Craig gave a muffled chuckle, leaving love bites and hickeys all down his neck and shoulder. And the kisses didn't stop. They were tender, loving, as the descended his chest. The smell of vomit was thick, but Craig didn't care. Weren't wedding vows something like 'in sickness and in health'? And since he someday intended on reciting such vows to said blond, this was nothing. He loved him, no matter what, and Tweek needed this, he needed him. And Tweek was completely at ease. Craig was being gentle with him, not dominating, not demanding or rough. Calloused hands skimmed down lean hips, holding softly as his lips moved feather-light around Tweek's navel, tongue delving in. The blond's breath hitched, and he let out a tender, breathy moan.

The moment was short-lived, however, when Craig's hands peeled down his sweats, and his eyes followed. Navy eyes widened impossibly, and when the kisses had ceased, Tweek's mocha eyes fluttered open. "Craig, why did you— oh my god." He noticed exactly where his lover's eyes were, and he struggled in vain to get away. "Gah! Craig, get out!" Tweek squirmed again, thrashing now, as Craig's grip tightened on his hips, causing the teen to yelp in pain. "Get the fuck out! Don't- ngk!- Don't fucking look at me, don't touch me!" He slapped Craig's hand away as the male went for his pants to see further damage. Tweek wouldn't have it, as his knee jerked up swiftly, nailing Craig in the jaw. He was honestly terrified now, brown eyes wide, and slightly crazy. "Get out!" He was shrieking, voice cracking and raw. He wanted to be alone, he wanted Craig gone.

Craig tenderly touched the pads of his fingers to his jaw, feeling for the bruise. Tweek had... actually stuck him. Intentionally. And it didn't seem as if the blond was afraid to do it a second time, if necessary. "You need help!" His temper snapped, and his brows drew together angrily, jaws clenched. "You're fucking out of your mind, you freak!" Of course, Craig didn't mean a word of what he said, but it was just his anger. Tweek however, wasn't backing down. He was terrified, furious as he lashed out at Craig again with his bare foot. "Shit, Tweek! Fucking stop!" Thankfully, the older male had seen Tweek make the move, and he caught his ankle in a powerful grip, twisting and making him yelp in pain as he managed to pin the other on his chest, arm behind his back.

At this point, Tweek was screaming murderously, sobbing, honestly afraid of the violence. He knew where things like this led, and it made him panic. His breaths began to quicken until he was hyper-ventilating, trying to get a lung-full of precious air through broken, hysteric sobs. "D-don't do it, I- I'm s-sorry, Craig, p-please don't hurt me...!" As Tweek rambled, Craig's expression of anger quickly fell, replaced by heartbreak. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, j-just don't..."

Craig gathered the hysteric blond in his arms, cradling him close and trying to soothe over his sobs, helping him to calm. "Tweek, babe... Tweek, shh, its alright, I won't hurt you, calm down..." Sexual abuse. Okay, he understood this much. When Tweek had finally calmed, Craig littered kisses all over his face and hair, holding him close. "I'm sorry... for calling you a freak... you really aren't, but you need help, Tweekers. I-... I don't understand what's going on, but I know you need help. And... I want to do everything in my power... t-to help." By this point, Craig's fists were clenched, teeth bared as he fought to stay calm over the situation. He was hurting, in pain emotionally, and his throat was closing on him. If Tweek didn't come out of this alright, he didn't know what he'd do.

Tweek gave the tiniest of nods, curled against Craig's chest, eyes closed. Help... he needed it, he knew he did. He needed as much help as he could possibly get. For some reason, his mind was messing with him, and it was becoming extremely dangerous.

Craig helped him into the bath, which had come dangerously close to overflowing during their fighting, and began to tenderly wash his abused lover up with one hand. Tweek had such a grip on his other, that Craig worried that his fingers would break if he made an attempt to pull away. "Tweek, I need both hands," he whispered to a damp temple, holding the washcloth. Tweek reluctantly released him and allowed his boyfriend to wash him, mocha eyes closed. He nearly fell asleep, if not for the water being poured over his head to wash the shampoo and conditioner out.

Craig lifted him and wrapped him in a towel, tenderly drying off his thighs, hips and backside, before the rest of his body. When he had Tweek in fresh clothes, he curled up beside him in bed, protectively holding him. "Nothing's going to happen to you... I promise... I'll protect you..." Tweek gave a tired nod, falling into a much needed sleep against Craig's chest, holding to him tightly. Craig laid awake a while longer, caressing his fingers through damp blond tresses, lips to an ivory temple. "...I'll protect you."

&*~*&

"Hahh..." Pip leaned his head back, fingers tangled in a mass of black hair as his lover pressed him to the wall of his hallway, attacking his neck with lips and fangs. "D-Damien..." the Spawn responded by pressing their hips together, grinding roughly. The blond hoisted his knee up to Damien's waist, leg wrapped around his back to bring them closer. "O-oh, bloody hell..." His spine arched as a searing tongue lapped over the bites, and he found his mind hazing, hands sliding to remove his lover's shirt with renewed passion and enthusiasm.

Damien's deathly pale hands ravished Pip's slender sides, scratching his nails raggedly against the fabric. He stopped for mere moments to aid Pip and to throw the irritating piece of clothing to the floor, and reattach himself to his lover quickly. Hungrily, Damien seemed intent to devour every centimeter of the moaning blonde beneath him. He pinned him forcefully to the wall, not with his hands, but with his hips, which he shifted every so often; raising them, then lowering them at uneven intervals, driving his lover mad.

Pip whimpered, hands running over Damien's chest, blunt nails scraping as he felt a warm hand cup him between his thighs roughly. "Not here... Th-the bedroom..." Pleaded Pip, hips rolling, rocking shallowly against Damien's. A heated growl tore from the antichrist's throat when Pip pressed close, lips beneath his ear as he begged with an almost whorish manner to be taken upstairs. The Brit's ability to talk dirty never, ever failed to surprise- or arouse- the Spawn.

Hands cupping beneath fleshy, creamy thighs, Damien hoisted Pip up against his chest, taking the stairs two at a time. Not bothering to close the door, Damien threw his lover unceremoniously onto the bed, springing onto him almost immediately to continue his attack. He got as far as getting Pip's shirt and shorts off, and his own jeans, before two trembling hands closed over his wrists.

"D-Damien," moaned the blonde. "Stop..." Pip gave a heated gasp as he felt Damien's hand lowering so, so close to where he yearned to be touched... But, the Brit couldn't bring himself to do it, so he grabbed Damien's hands. With his raging hard-on quickly fading, he glanced up at his frustrated lover with an apologetic smile, looking about ready to cry. "I'm too worried about Tweek... I'm so sorry..." He sighed and shifted, pressing the shocked Spawn onto his back, ready to please him to compensate for the sudden stop in foreplay. He just couldn't find any pleasure in doing this, not with his friend so freshly on his mind.

Damien's brow furrowed angrily as he sighed and grasped thin wrists. His body was pulsing in anticipation of what he thought they were headed towards, and his back arched up off of the bed. "Pip, you can't just stop!" He cried with a husky moan, biting his lower lip. One look from his crestfallen lover, and Damien's expression softened, arms pulling his boyfriend close to his chest "...And I don't want you to do this if your heart's not in it."

Pip gave a tiny sigh, burying his face into Damien's chest. "...I'm sorry... I'm too worried about Tweek, Damien... you saw how afraid he was, how... broken. Its horrible! I can't... get the image out of my head." The Brit shifted a little, feeling Damien's prominent erection against his hip. "I'm sorry, love... I just can't keep it up, I'm afraid... but I can help you if you want-"

"Nah, its fine, Pipsqueak." Damien said with a reassuring smile, gently sliding out from beneath Pip. He rose to a sitting position before getting up from the bed. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have some..." He cleared his throat, gesturing to his still-pulsing erection. "Business to attend too." Turning on his heel, he headed to the bathroom and closed the door, leaving Pip along on the bed, half-naked and looking upset.

As soon as Pip heard Damien give a quiet growl, he got up and hurried downstairs, guiltily. It was his fault that Damien had to beat off in the bathroom, after all. How long had it been since he had to last do such a thing? The blond angel usually satisfied his every need. He dragged himself to make a cup of tea, and sat quietly in the kitchen, thoughts scrambled in his head. Oceanic eyes focused on his thumb that swiped back and forth over a small section of the rim of the mug idly, lost in his own world of concern.

After Damien had finished in the bathroom, he came to join his lover in the kitchen, moving as silently as possible. The sight of a heart-broken Pip gazing into nothingness hurt, perhaps worse than he could have imagined possible. He sighed,at all loss as to what to do about the situation. This really was eating at the other male, and if this was going to mess with his Pip this badly than something needed to be done and quick.

Though, it wasn't exactly quite that simple. It wasn't as if he could just tell his lover 'Oh yeah, though you'd like to know that our friend Tweek? Yeah. Someone's been fucking him against his will'. The damage it would do to his trust with Tweek, the damage it would do his lover! It was too much.

"...What do you propose we do?" Asked Pip when strong arms looped about his shoulders from behind, warm, calloused hands caressing his chest. Damien set his chin atop blond tresses after lying a quick kiss to golden silk. He could lie. He could tell Pip that everything would be alright. But, if something more happened... Pip would blame him. So, instead, Damien lifted Pip into his arms and traded places sitting on the hard kitchen chair, pulling his lover into his lap in a tight embrace.

"I'm not sure what's going on, babe... but I swear to you, I'll get to the bottom of it. I won't rest until I find out what's hurting Tweek, alright?" A small white lie, but the rest was pure honesty. If Pip was going to become this worried, this withdrawn, he knew he had to do something, quickly. "Come on, get off of me. Lets make something to eat, yeah?" The smaller male nodded and laid a kiss to searing lips before he got to his feet.

Damien hugged him from behind and kissed up the side of his neck, wondering idly if he could get Pip to smile for him. His fingers trailed under his shirt, over his skin, to his back, before finally resting on his rear, giving it a light swat, causing the Brit to yelp indignantly with flushed cheeks. "Damien!" He soon giggled though, as Damien gave him an innocent smile. "You're going to pay for that." That being said, Pip promptly engaged in a full-scale condiment fight with his lover in the kitchen.

Hell yeah, he still had it when it came to Pip, no matter how dire the situation.


	5. The Hounds Of Hell

**A/N: Hey guys, guess what? I just finished chapter three yesterday, and I'm already on top of my game, starting chapter four. I'm actually really excited to be doing this, now that the stupid laziness is gone, and now that I have CrescentNinetails guiding me every step of the way. I think it's what I needed. Also, a thanks to ToniTheTerror, for opinions, and roleplaying me through this.**

**After months of deciding where I wanted to go with this, I've finally chosen, and I'm going to stick with it. **

**Without further ado, I bring you chapter four.**

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Damien rolled onto his back, the early morning light filtering onto the bed through the creases in the blinds. Golden hair spilled out over his chest, Pip curled close with the blanket draped over his hip, exposing his bare upper torso. The antichrist had managed to coax his lover into a night of slow, passionate love-making after their little food-fight. Pip hadn't complained, positively melting at his boyfriend's smooth, heartfelt confessions of love, and his tender touches, gentle kisses. It had been a while since they'd done it like that, and the Brit was never one to pass up something so romantic. Now Damien lie awake, a rare smile on his face as his fingers stroked strands of silk from his angel's cheek, to better see his face.

Oceanic eyes gave a flutter, and Pip sighed, shifting his position to better cuddling into the mass of their tangled limbs. "Good morning, love," my murmured, voice thick with sleep, feigning a yawn. The spawn grinned and pressed his lips to Pip's, cutting off his yawn halfway. Pip's look of confusion made him chuckle as he pulled back.

"Morning, Pipsqueak." Voice laced with affection, Damien pressed a kiss to a smooth, cool forehead just as Pip snuggled into the warmth of his lover's body. "Mm, you gotta get up, babe. You have work." Pip groaned and pouted, rolling on top of his boyfriend, gazing down at him, hair curtaining over one shoulder with a 'Do I have to?' face. Damien simply laughed and nodded, hands coming to settle on his lover's bruised hips-- it has been from last night where Damien had maybe kissed a little too passionately, marking and claiming his mate. "Yep. Up, come on." A dramatic eye roll and Pip got off of Damien, strutting to the shower, making sure he swayed his hips in a manner so seductive that Damien could feel his mouth beginning to water. Oh, Pip was _so_ his when he got home.

The Brit showered routinely, taking extreme care in washing his hair and body. He always made sure he was perfectly pristine, and primped for work. It took him an extra hour, so what? He got up early, and barely ever complained. He was quite the morning person. And when he emerged from the shower, dressed from the waist down, he found Damien nowhere in sight. A shrug, and he grabbed his shirt and bowtie, hopping down the stairs and heading to the kitchen. He'd grab some toast, iron his clothes, and be out the door. But as he passed the kitchen, he caught sight of his lover in boxers and a t-shirt, slaving away over the stove. "Damien?"

The antichrist turned and smiled, frying pan in hand, harboring two sunny-side up eggs, "Hmm? I figured I'd make you something to eat today. You barely touched dinner last night, you gotta be starving."

"I am!" Chirped the smaller teen, hanging his shirt and bowtie over the back of his chair as he took a seat, delighted as Damien presented him with a steaming cup of breakfast tea. Pip cast him a coy smile, one brow raised. "All right, what's going on? You _never_ go all out for me, unless you want something." Damien laughed, shaking his head as he slid eggs, toast and bacon onto a plate, setting it in front of Pip with a tender kiss to his cheek.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," lied Damien smoothly, smirking as he turned toward the sink with his back to his lover to wash the pans and dishes he had used. Pip gave him an incredulous stare, but began to eat silently, not pushing it any further. Perhaps Damien was just doing something nice.

_Yeah, right._

Pip ironed his shirt, straightened his tie, and was off within the next five minutes, but not after giving Damien quiet the smoky 'thank you' kiss. A giggle and a wink, and he skipped out the door, catching the bus to his job working in the bookstore in the heart of the town.

Damien sighed to himself with a tiny, fond smile as he watched Pip go off to work. Nothing in his entire life had ever made him happier than the blond bundle of sunshine, and Damien was pretty sure, almost one-hundred percent sure, that if Pip ever left his side, he would most likely die. No, he would definitely die. Pip had entered his life so suddenly, had taken his entire world by storm, turned it upside down and thoroughly rocked it to the core. And Damien wouldn't have wanted it any other way. This morning was only the start of his plan, and he was sure that tonight would be the night. Leaning up on his toes, he extracted the tiny velvet box from the top of the highest shelf in the kitchen, smiling fondly at it. They were almost done with their senior year in high-school, and he was planning on asking Phillip Pirrup to marry him. He had it all planned out in his mind; Pip would come home, Damien would greet him at the door and blindfold him, lead him to a candlelit dinner on the balcony, ask him for a dance, then get down on one knee. He'd then give him a bath, a massage, and end with another night of slow, impassioned lovemaking. It was perfect. Pip would be home at five, in seven hours, and Damien's plan would kick into action. For now, he was left to rush about the house, cleaning, and preparing it for his big night.

&*~*&

"You ready, Tweekers?"

Tweek gave a tiny nod, turning his attention away from the brick facility to face his lover, determination etched into the features of his face. Craig smiled, almost sadly and leaned forward, cupping beneath the blond's chin and bringing their lips together tenderly. "It's okay… It's gonna be okay, Tweek," breathed the male, taking a trembling hand in his own. "This will make you better, and if you need me, I'll be here in a heartbeat, no matter what time, no matter if it's a blizzard, or a-" A thin finger to his lips silenced him, and navy met mocha.

"Craig," started the blond, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag, looking away a moment, before meeting Craig's eyes once more. "I'll be fine; I'll call you if I have a problem."

The calmness in his boyfriend almost frightened Craig. Tweek wasn't twitching, he wasn't screaming that he'd be killed or kidnapped. His eyes weren't afraid. Craig, on the other hand, felt like a nervous wreck, handing his lover over into the hands of complete strangers, to live there, until he got better. The thought of leaving Tweek to sleep alone, to _be_ alone… Tweek's parents had agreed to this idea the instant Craig suggested it. The sooner Tweek was out of their hair, the better. And Tweek knew it, though he never said a word. The only reasoning behind his unnatural calmness was the fact that he _wanted_ to get better, for his lover's sake, and for his own. If he was going to hallucinate about someone raping him, or about that someone being Craig, than he wasn't going to pass up a chance to get his head fixed.

He took a deep breath and kissed Craig a final time, before swinging the door open. In the trunk was his suitcase with clothes, and other essentials. Without looking back, he walked to the front doors through the iron-bar gate, ignoring the fact that this looked more like a prison, than anything else, and rung the bell. A voice crackled over the intercom, and Tweek gave a tiny yelp of surprise, but quickly regained his composure and pressed the button on the speaker with a shaking finger. "T-Tweek Tweak, I- I'm new." There was a pause, and a loud buzz, much like the half-time buzzer in a game of basketball, and Tweek was allowed inside.

The walls were white. The floors were white. The doors and the chairs in the hall and the clothes on the workers where _white_. The fluorescent lighting didn't help to calm his nerves now in overdrive. After a tiny mental pep-talk, he demanded his legs to work, and he made his way, following the tiny signs that led him to the receptionist's desk.

She sat calmly behind a chicken-wire grate that covered the space to the top border of the desk, to the surface of it, completely protecting her. The sight reminded Tweek of a caged bird, and he felt slight pity for her. When he approached the desk, she looked up and plastered a super-huge, super-fake smile on her face. Shimmering emerald eyes betrayed her completely as he noted the pity she had for him as he drew nearer. The sympathetic look made Tweek's skin itch, his blood boiling inside. How _dare_ she actually look at him like that! But… As he thought about it, telling her his name with a jerky twitch and a stutter, he felt his anger recede. She had every right to look at him that way- the blonde knew he looked like a nut. The receptionist, _Baker_, as her nameplate read, tucked her flaming red hair behind her ear.

"Tweek Tweak… Senior in South Park High, average grades, homosexual. Boyfriend of Craig Tucker, friends of Phillip Pirrup, Leopold Stotch, Kenneth McCormick, and- oh! How interesting. Damien Thorn, the antichrist." A more tender smile played across her lips as she noticed Tweek's horrified look. "Oh, don't worry. We're not stalking you, Tweek. Your parents had to fill out an application, as best as they could before sending you here, so we could do background checks and such, to make sure that you're alright." Somehow, this did nothing to soothe over the sudden waves of paranoia. Would it be wrong to just turn and bolt out of there, sprint to the nearest bus station, and catch a ride to Craig's house?

Miss Baker must have caught on to his expression- again- and she laughed, a rich, clear-as-a-bell giggle. "Oh, the doors can't be opened. Not without my consent."

_Great_.

Tweek answered a few questions, and was soon lead to a singular bedroom where he was to stay during his recovery. At least the room wasn't white. It was rather dismal, but anything was better than the headache-inducing whitewash of the rest of the place. The blue walls were the color of Craig's eyes, Tweek came to realize, as he stretched his back onto the small bed. It reminded him almost of a hospital bed— there were even the buckle straps stuffed underneath the mattress, just in case. The thought made him extremely uncomfortable. Anyone could just waltz in, and-

"Hello?"

"GAH! Shit!" Tweek jumped from his position, hitting the floor with a loud thump and a yelp, eyes watering from pain from cracking his head on the dresser beside him. There was a deep, velvet chuckle as a man with thick curly brown hair stood in the doorway with a relaxed position, hands deep in the pockets of his black slacks. Mocha eyes turned toward the voice, and his cheeks flushed. _That_ guy was a worker here!? He was positively _gorgeous!_ Stormy blue-grey eyes, curly brown hair, a tall, lean physique, and a heart-throb smile. He was wearing what looked like a lab-coat, with a white undershirt and a black-and-white striped tie.

"I'm Doctor Leonard. You can call me David. I'll be your therapist, and starting today, your new best friend. You feeling alright?" His smile had faded into one of concern as Tweek gave a nod, rubbing the back of his head and getting to his feet with the help of the bed. He was only slightly dizzy now. "Right, here…" He moved closer to Tweek slowly, helping him sit down, and pulling a bottle of water from his pocket. He twisted the cap open and handed the bottle to the blond with a calming smile. Tweek felt better at the serene look and nodded his thanks, taking a sip.

The dizziness cleared after a while, and he was able to get a better look at his 'new best friend'. David looked to be in his thirties, or late twenties, and looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders with a smile. It must have come with the job of being a psychotherapist, though.

"I-I'm Tweek," he managed to mumble once he had quenched his thirst, and once the throbbing on his head had receded. The two passed time talking back and forth, and slowly, Tweek began to unwind. David was nice; he was very father-like in a way. As they became more familiar with each other, Tweek began to talk openly without being asked, becoming expressive and excited, then depressed and withdrawn, angry, giddy. David simply nodded, seeming to be enjoying himself, the conversation letting him get a feel of his patient.

When the clock struck for nine pm, David glanced at the digital clock. "Oh, would you look at that… Its late. Oh, here. You have insomnia, so this should help." He pulled a pill from a baggy in his pocket, and handed it to the blond, who dry-swallowed it gratefully. "I'm just going to leave a note. Our first 'official' meeting is tomorrow in my office, here are the directions." As he scribbled them down, Tweek felt drowsy. He curled up with a yawn and a nod, snuggling beneath the blankets. David laughed softly, and gave his head a pet. He figured Tweek would be alright sleeping in the sweats he had worn there, and the t-shirt. "Night, Tweek." He said, leaving the room after clicking the light off, and closing the door.

Tweek smiled to himself and cuddled down into the sheets. David was definitely someone he could trust. His smile wasn't plastic, and he wasn't wearing all white. After a while, he fell asleep to a static dream.

&*~*&

"Thank you, Pip!"

"Oh, it was nothing," replied the blonde merrily, sliding off his work smock, hanging it up in he back locker room. He sighed and fixed his hair, sweeping it up into an elastic, checking his appearance in the tiny mirror he'd hung up on the inside of the door of the locker, just for occasions like this.

"You got a date?"

"Oh hush, you," scolded the Brit softly toward his employer, Lockwood. The man laughed and shook his head, hands sliding into his pockets. Pip smiled and headed out of the back room to the main floor of the bookshop, toward the exit. "Oh, bollocks… It's raining." A pout and he worried his lower lip between his teeth. It was an absolute downpour. Feigning a sigh, the Brit pushed the door open and prepared for his sprint home. It would be useless to wait at the bus-stop; he'd be waiting in the waterfall of rain. Lockwood sidled up to him, leaning against the doorframe.

"Shit, would you look at that…" He ran a hand through his chocolate tresses, heaving a sigh. "Need a lift home?"

"Oh, would it be that much trouble?"

"Not at all!" replied the male with a smile, hand pressing itself between Pip's shoulders on his back, steering him away from the door. "Just go wait in the garage, I'll lock up." A nod, and Pip walked with a bounce in his step toward the locker room again. Some people, he mused, were just genuinely pleasant. Lockwood was one of those people.

As Pip hummed to himself, he didn't hear Lockwood's footsteps, or foresee the book swing at the back of his head. Pain dizzied his vision as the floor rose to meet him. Pip yelped when a hard tug to his hair brought him to his knees, and face-to-face with a crouching Lockwood. "You're comin' home with _me_."

"I-I'm afraid I can't," Pip tried to reason, whimpering as the hand tightened in his hair, twisting painfully. "You're hurting me!"

"Good," came the dark, flat reply as the brunette shoved Pip down to the floor, grabbing him by the back of his shirt to haul him over his shoulder. Pip cried out and flailed, screaming for help as he was brought out to the garage, toward his employer's green minivan. "Stay still, you stupid bitch!" Lockwood tossed open the trunk and fought with the blond as he struggled vigorously to escape, tears tracking down his face.

"Someone, please, help! Help me! Damien!" Pip's voice was becoming raw from screaming, and he began to cough. Before he could be stuffed into the back, he gave a final thrash to break the grip of his attacker. No such luck, and Pip lost a shoe in the process, before his world flashed white with pain, and then ceased to exist as he fell unconscious, Lockwood looming over him with a bat in hand and a smirk.

&*~*&

Damien sighed, eyes on the clock. It was late, two hours past Pip's usual arrival time home. The candles on the table had burned out, the wax pooling on the silver plates beneath them, the food as cold as the air. The rain was thick, and it was completely silent. Worry began to eat at him. Pip couldn't have gotten lost; he'd taken that route time and time again. Ten more minutes passed, before Damien got to his feet, grabbing his trench coat. He slid it on and held his hand out, palm-down as he whistled. There was a rush of smoke and flame, before a black, three-headed hound appeared with a howl.

"Cerberus, hey boy." He said with a tiny smirk, petting each head affectionately. "Dad been feeding you guys okay?" The happy barks made him laugh slightly. Cerberus had been with him since childhood. But all playfulness aside, Damien's smile faded. "Pip hasn't come home. He might have gotten lost. Here." He pulled a jacket from the rack, Pip's jacket, and let the each dog get a good sniff. "Alright. Lets go find him."

Damien opened the door, and watched his hound dash from the room, following the scent. The good thing was, that they'd be able to pick up the scent, even in the rain. He followed closely at a dash in the rain, watching his dog sniff, then bolt. It led him to his lover's work, and they howled outside the door. "He hasn't left?" The dog sat patiently, as Damien laughed to himself. "What an idiot… He probably fell asleep after closing up. Stand back." Cerberus rounded behind him, as Damien's hand fanned out, the glass shattering with an invisible blast. The dog jumped in, and ran around back.

The garage door was still open, and Damien felt his stomach turn. "Pip? Pipsqueak?" He glanced around, and noticed something shining on the floor. Crouching, he realized it was dried, and a muddy red. His stomach turned, and he followed his hound outside, heart jumping to his chest. "Fuck!" He slid to his knees on the gravel, ignoring the new tears on his jeans and skin as he lifted his boyfriend's shoe. His teeth clenched, head bowing. "…Pip…" He curled his fist around the converse sneaker, trembling in rage, or in sadness. Cerberus nudged one head to his side, and Damien pet him distractedly.

"Oh… Fuck… Whoever did this…" He got to his feet, mind racing. He felt dizzy. What if it was the same guy who got Tweek?

"SHIT!" the spawn gave a murderous scream, and the surrounding cars burst into flame spontaneously, glass flying everywhere. Blood leaked from a slice on Damien's cheek, and we wiped it off with his fingertips, tongue running over the crimson elixir. A smirk played onto his lips, his eyes blazing red, nearing black.

"Oh," his voice was dark, sharp and all-around terrifying. The full power of the antichrist was now being released. "You've fucked with the wrong demon. When I find you, I'm going to kill you. Slowly. I'm going to laugh as you suffer. I promise you that." His vow went deaf to the world under the pouring rain and wail of car alarms around him, as leathery black wings tore from his back, blood splattering the garage walls and floor around him. The _plink_ of blood was heard as he walked slowly toward the exit, wings spanning to their full potential.

_"Behold, the power of the Fallen Angel."_


End file.
